Total Resident Evil
by KeyBladeWarrior56
Summary: During Total Drama World Tour, an accident strands the 17 teenagers, host, and chef in the middle of rural Russia. What starts off as a search for help quickly becomes a nightmarish fight for survival...
1. The Accident

**Total Resident Evil**

**by KeyBladeWarrior56**

**Summary**: During Total Drama World Tour, an accident strands the 17 teenagers, host, and chef in the middle of rural Russia. What starts off as a search for help quickly becomes a nightmarish fight for survival...

**Warning**: This fanfiction will contain harsh swearing, bloody and intense violence, and character death. Who knows, I might even throw a bit of sexuality in the mix. Now, you'd probably expect a story like this to be rated M, and it will be. But for now, since the first few chapters aren't that bad (with only a _little _language and violence), the story will be rated T. When things get more intense, the rating will change.

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Total Drama, the garbage known as TDDDDI and Total Drama Action would not exist. But alas, I don't, and they do. Sigh.

**Total Resident Evil**

**Prologue: The Accident**

On a heavily forested Russian mountainside, driving along an old dirt road, was an RV. But this was no ordinary RV. For one thing, it was the size of a semi-truck. Also, painted on the sides of the RV was the grinning face of reality show host and badminton-themed zombie movie star Chris McLean. The RV was known as the Chrismobile, and it was the RV being driven around the world for the third season of the popular Total Drama franchise; Total Drama World Tour.

If you're wondering why an RV is being used to travel the world instead of a plane, as originally announced, allow me to explain. We all know that during the Celebrity Manhunt TV special, when Chris and Chef announced Total Drama World Tour, the entire nose of the plane they planned on using fell off. As it turns out, that wasn't the only problem with the plane. After the nose was fixed up and the group tried flying to Russia, the plane made it across the Pacific Ocean before technical problems forced the plane to land in the Russian city of Yakutsk. As they tried to fix up the plane, both wings fell of, the engines explodes, the landing gear broke off, and the toilet somehow burst into flames. With their main mode of transportation out of the question, Chris went with plan B; traveling the world in an RV. It wasn't the same, but the show must go on, after all.

But, I digress. Let's return to the story, shall we?

On-board the Chrismobile, in the RV's living area, were the 17 seventeen-year olds competing in Total Drama World Tour, each person occupied with their own business. Noah was in the middle of Stephen King's latest book, "Blockade Billy". Ezekiel was in the middle of his own book; "Teen Slang for Dummies". Cody and Harold were in the middle of an intense, action-packed battle to the death.

"Pikachu, use Thunderbolt!"

"Blaziken, use Overheat! Gosh!"

Owen was at the snack bar, scarfing down all the food in sight. DJ, Tyler, Duncan, and newcomer Alejandro were playing pool, the latter formulating devious plans for winning the one million dollar grand prize.

Two others thinking of evil plans were Heather and Courtney, who were seated on opposite sides of the RV, each reading a magazine. Lindsay, without her usual BFF Beth, was making small talk with the other newcomer, Sierra.

"Omigosh, I can't _believe _were going to see Moscow!" Lindsay gushed.

"I _know_, right?" Sierra replied. "It's going to be _so _much fun!"

"Eee, I know! I can't wait to see all the sights that make Moscow famous; the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Arc de Trident-"

"That's Paris, you idiot! Not Moscow!" Heather snapped from across the room.

Gwen, LeShawna, and Bridgette were having a conversation, enjoying each others company. Izzy was in the middle of her own battle, up against an opponent she had been trying to defeat for the last four hours. Finally, Courtney had had enough.

"Izzy!" she snapped. "Will you knock it off? I'm telling you, it's _impossible _to lick your elbow!"

"But I have to!" Izzy replied, glaring at her own elbow, which she held close to her face. "Look at it. It's just sitting there... mocking me!" She stuck her tongue out at her elbow again, but once again failed to lick it. She growled. "Just you wait! I _will _lick you one day!"

And in the driver's seats in the front of the RV were the host and co-host of Total Drama World Tour; Chris McLean and Chef Hatchet, driving the RV towards the site of the first episode of TDWT; Moscow, Russia. Well, Chef was the one doing all the driving. Chris was just staring at his reflection in his hand-held mirror, his feet propped up on the dashboard.

"Wow," Chris mused, grinning into the mirror. "I am ridiculously handsome."

Chef Hatchet rolled his eyes. Luckily, Chris was too preoccupied with his reflection to notice.

"How long do you think it'll be before we reach Moscow, Chef?"

"Should take us another two or three days," was Chef's reply.

"Coolio," Chris pulled out a pocket comb and started fixing his hair. "This is going to be the greatest season ever!"

"As long as it's better than Total Drama Action was."

Chef noticed that the sun was nearly down; it was barely peeking over the distant mountains, and the sky was dyed a deep shade of violet, almost totally black. "Yo Chris, it's getting late. You want me to stop for the night?"

"Nah," Chris shook his head. "Keep going. We're already way behind schedule, and I wanna reach Moscow as soon as possible."

Chef shrugged as he made a left turn on the dirt road. "Whatever you say, Chris. But if I start dozin' off at the wheel, I'm gonna havta' st – _HOLY SHIT!!_"

Chef's outburst made Chris drop his mirror and comb in shock. Without his reflection to stare at, Chris looked out the front window, and saw what had startled Chef. A large moose – bigger than the one at Camp Wawanakwa – was standing in the middle of the road, staring at the oncoming vehicle, and making no attempt to move.

"_Look out!!_" Chris screamed. His hands flew to the steering wheel and violently turned it right, at the exact moment Chef did the same. The RV sharply turned right, narrowly avoiding the moose. Unfortunately, the sharp turn sent the RV flying down a hill.

"_GAAAAAHHH!!_" both Chris and Chef screamed as they clung to each other in fear. The RV barreled down the hill at very high speeds. Anything in its path; bushes, rocks, small animals, small trees – hell, even moderate sized trees were no match for a 60-mile-an-hour, 10-ton recreational vehicle.

The occupants inside the bus were doing no better than the nature in the RV's path. One minute, the teenagers were enjoying a quiet evening on the bus, reading, playing games, or socializing (or trying to lick their own elbow, in the case of Izzy), and the next minute, they're all being tossed around like screaming rag dolls. Several were lucky, as they were simply thrown against the wall or floor. Others were not so fortunate; Bridgette was brained by Noah and Ezekiel's flying books, Duncan was pinned against the wall by the pool table (which had slammed into him when the RV turned), DJ took a bar stool to the face, and Courtney... Well, Owen landed on her, so it's safe to say that she isn't doing too good.

Finally, the RV's rampage came to an end when it crashed into a huge tree; a tree almost as wide as the entire RV. The front window shattered, raining broken glass down on Chris and Chef, who were both pushed back against their seats by the airbags. In the room behind them, the seventeen teens were jolted around one last time before coming to rest.

For a minute, the forest was silent. The only sounds that could be heard were the chirping of crickets, the growls and other emissions of nocturnal animals, and the quiet hiss of steam that rose up out of the smashed front of the Chrismobile.

That silence was broken be the frustrated grunting of Chef Hatchet as he pushed the airbag back. After he pushed the airbag back enough to move, he unbuckled his seat belt and gave himself a once-over. He didn't feel anything broken, nor any intense pain... aside from a few cuts and scrapes, it looked like Chef was okay.

After he was sure he was alright, Chef looked over at Chris, and his eyes went wide in shock and worry. Chris was slumped up against the seat, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open, blood leaking from a nasty gash in his head.

Fearing the worst, Chef pushed Chris's airbag away and felt his neck for a pulse. He sighed in relief when he found one; Chris was still alive, just unconscious.

Now that he was certain that the man who signs his paychecks was okay, Chef climbed over the driver's seat and opened the door to the RV's living area, where all the contestants were at the time of the crash. The living area was a mess, with chairs, tables, books, magazines, food, pool balls, pool cues, and groaning teenagers scattered around the floor.

"You kids alright?" Chef asked.

"I... I think so..." DJ said, slowly lifting himself off the floor, gently rubbing the bruises on his face. He was one of the first to get up, being a high-school football star who used to being knocked around. When he saw Duncan sandwiched between the pool table and the wall, his eyes went wide. "Oh man, Duncan!" DJ quickly pushed the pool table away, and Duncan fell to the floor, groaning and clutching his stomach in pain.

"What the _fuck _happened?" Heather asked rudely as she got up, clutching her head and hissing in pain.

"There was a goddamn moose in the middle of the road," Chef explained as he help Owen off Courtney, who groaned in pain and held her leg.

"Something tells me that hitting the moose would have been better than _this_," Alejandro muttered as he fixed his messed-up hair.

By now, most of the teenagers had gotten up, allowing Chef to get a good look at them; most of them were okay, save for a few cuts, scrapes, bruises, and bumps. A few, however, were in bad shape; Duncan was still on the floor in the fetal position, Noah was unconscious, Courtney's leg was probably broken in several places, and LeShawna had a nasty gash running up the side of her arm, which Harold was patching up with the aid of a torn cloth.

"Where's Chris?" Bridgette asked, cleaning her own cuts.

"He's in the front seat," Chef explained, opening the door to the outside. "He's out cold, but otherwise okay. C'mon, let's check the damage."

* * *

All of the campers, save for Duncan and Noah, were outside the bus with Chef (Courtney had been carried out by Owen, the larger boy apologizing every other second for landing on the CIT), inspecting the damage to the RV. It was far worse than any of them had expected; the wheels had shredded, the axles had cracked, all of the windows had shattered, and the front of the RV had been absolutely totaled by the tree.

"I think it's safe to say that this bus isn't going anywhere," Harold said.

"Great," Alejandro groaned, kicking the side of the Chrismobile in frustration. "Just fucking great! We're stuck in the middle of nowhere!"

Chef tapped his chin in thought. "Maybe not," he said, failing to notice that Cody had wandered off. Chef turned to Heather and Lindsay. "You two have cell phones, don't you? Can you call for help?"

Heather and Lindsay already had their phones out and were fiddling with them before Chef could finish asking. The queen bee shook her head.

"It's no good," Heather said with a sigh. "I've got zero bars out here."

Chef looked to Lindsay, who also shook her head. The large cook groaned.

"Well, now what do we do?" Gwen asked darkly, leaning against the bus and crossing her arms. "The RV is trashed, and there's no civilization for miles."

"Don't be too sure about that, Gwen," the teens heard Cody call from somewhere close by. "Come check this out!"

The teenagers and Chef followed the sound of Cody's voice, pushing their way through some trees and shrubs. They found Cody standing in the middle of a clearing, looking down at the valley below. What they saw made them gasp.

In the center of the valley was a moderate-sized village. There were lights on in many of the small houses, and smoke rose up from many of the chimneys. Beyond the village was an enormous, fortress-like castle, much larger than the village itself.

"You found a town," Courtney muttered, looking at Cody in shock. The tech geek smiled proudly, then cried out in shock as someone pulled him into a tight hug.

"Cody, you're a genius!" Sierra gushed, holding the blushing Cody close. "You found civilization! We're saved!"

"The only question is..." Tyler began, looking up at Chef. "How are we going to get there?"

Chef tapped his chin in though for another minute, looking down at the teenagers he was in charge of, then down at the village. "I think I have an idea..."

* * *

"We're going to split up into two teams," Chef explained to the teens as he filled a backpack up with supplies. They were back in the RV's living area, packing for their journey to the village. Owen and DJ had pulled mattresses from the sleeping area out into the living area, and Chris, Noah, Duncan, and Courtney were now resting on them. "One team will stay behind on the bus, taking care of the wounded. The other – led by myself – will head down to that village and get help."

"And who's going where, exactly?" Bridgette asked.

"My team will be goth girl, surfer chick, crazy girls one and two, nerds one and two, brick house, no-skilled jock, and home-school," Chef told them, referring to Gwen, Bridgette, Izzy, Sierra, Cody, Harold, DJ, Tyler, and Ezekiel.

"What?!" Courtney snapped. "Y-you can't leave me behind!" She started to get up. "I used to be a CIT, remember? I know how to navigate in the fores-" Courtney's speech came to an end when she tried to stand up and intense pain shot through her leg. She screamed in pain and fell to the floor.

"You're not going anywhere," Chef said firmly as Owen and Bridgette helped Courtney back onto her bed. "Not with that leg, you aren't. Juvie took a pool table to the gut, so he won't be any help, and bookworm and pretty boy are still out cold."

Chef turned to the five teens he hadn't picked for his team and who weren't seriously injured; Lindsay, Heather, Alejandro, LeShawna, and Owen. "I'm counting on you guys to look after the wounded while my team and I get help. Can you guys do that?"

"You can count on me, Chef," LeShawna said, saluting the larger man with her good arm.

"Me too!" Lindsay chimed in.

Alejandro scowled, but nodded.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Heather said, crossing her arms and looking away. "Just as long as you get us out of this mess."

"We won't let you down, Chef," Owen said, right before shoveling some beef jerky into his mouth. He noticed the others giving him strange looks. "What? Near-death experiences make me hungry!"

Chef rolled his eyes, then turned his his team. All of them had finished packing, their backpacks slung over their shoulders. "My team, wait for me outside. I'll be out in a minute."

Chef's team nodded and then left, Izzy and Tyler giving Owen and Lindsay a kiss goodbye (Harold tried to kiss LeShawna, but was pushed away). Before Chef left, he handed Alejandro a small, orange gun.

"What's this?" The handsome teen asked, staring down at the firearm.

"Flare gun," Chef replied as he turned to leave. "If someone finds you guys, or if there's any trouble, stand outside and fire it into the air."

Before Chef left, he gave the staying teens a salute. "Good luck, soldiers."

And with that, Chef stepped outside, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

"Alright, soldiers," Chef said to his team as he started walking in the direction of the village. "We've got a lot of walking to do, so let's get moving."

The teenagers nodded and started following Chef through the woods. Harold, who was closest to the burly cook, noticed him fiddling with an odd-shaped device.

"What's that?" Harold asked.

Chef held up the device for all to see. It was a small, black 9 millimeter handgun. Several of the teens gasped and shrunk back in fear.

"Handgun," Chef explained. "I got it from the bus's emergency kit."

He looked over his shoulder and noticed the looks of fear on the teen's faces, and quickly put the gun in his pocket. "Relax, it's just a precaution, in case we run into any hostile animals. I probably won't even have to use it."

Later, Chef would realize just how false that statement was.

* * *

A dark figure sat alone in a small, windowless room. The only light came from the small candles mounted on the walls. A second dark figure entered thew room and bowed before the sitting figure.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, my lord," the kneeling figure said. "But we have... visitors."

"Is that so?" The sitting figure asked, crossing his arms.

"Yes sir. In the mountains to the north of us. What shall we do?"

The sitting figure rubbed his chin for a few minutes, deep in thought. Finally, he spoke again.

"Send them... a welcoming committee."

**End of Prologue...**

Review, please! Constructive criticism is encouraged, destructive criticism will be ignored completely. Later!


	2. First Encounters

**Total Resident Evil**

**by KeyBladeWarrior56**

**Summary**: During Total Drama World Tour, an accident strands the 17 teenagers, host, and chef in the middle of rural Russia. What starts off as a search for help quickly becomes a nightmarish fight for survival...

**Warning**: Same as the Prologue. This chapter will have slighty stronger language than last chapter, and a little bit of violence, but not enough to up the rating... yet.

**Disclaimer**: Still don't won Total Drama.

Here we go with Chapter One! Read on, if you dare...

**Total Resident Evil**

**Part One: The Village**

**Chapter One: First Encounters**

Chef Hatchet, Bridgette, Gwen, Cody, Sierra, Ezekiel, Izzy, Tyler, Harold, and DJ walked through the woods for what seemed like hours. The trees that surrounded the group stretched high above them, their branches and leaves blocking the light of the full moon. Beams of light from the team's flashlights cut through the darkness, but it didn't make them feel any safer. They couldn't shake the strange feeling that someone was watching them...

"Um... so..." Sierra began nervously, thinking some friendly conversation would lighten the mood. "Hey Chef, why'd you pick Alejandro, Owen, Heather, Lindsay and LeShawna to stay behind?"

"I actually gave a lot of thought into who came with me and who stayed behind," Chef replied as he pushed a large tree branch out of the way. "I figured that Lindsay and Heather would do nothing but complain the whole time. LeShawna's got that bum arm, and Owen would just slow us down, the tub of lard. Uh, no offense, Izzy."

"None taken," Izzy said with a shrug.

"As for Alejandro... Well, that guy just gives me the creeps."

The nine teenagers had to agree with Chef on that last part. Unlike Sierra, who talked with _everyone _when she joined their group back in Canada, Alejandro had hardly said two words to anyone. And after what happened with Justin on TDA, the teens were definitely going to be suspicious of quiet, handsome guy.

Speaking of guys, Gwen noticed that Bridgette was staring at something in her free hand. Gwen peered over the surfer girl's shoulder and saw that it was a heart-shaped locket. It was open, revealing a hidden picture of Geoff and Bridgette, their arms around each others shoulders, smiling for the camera. They both looked so... happy.

"Where'd you get that locket?" Gwen asked. Bridgette was startled for a split second, but calmed down when she saw that it was just Gwen.

"Oh, hey Gwen," Bridgette said, closing the locket. "Geoff got it for me, right after Total Drama Action ended." She put the locket around her neck and gazed down at it. "He said that it was his way of saying 'sorry' for the way he acted during the TDA Aftermath shows..."

Bridgette pause to sigh before speaking again. "You know, at first I was upset that Geoff didn't make it to Total Drama World Tour, but after everything that's happened tonight, I'm kinda glad he's safe in Canada."

"Yeah, I feel the same way about Trent not being here," Gwen said, nodding in agreement. Even thought the goth girl and musician had broken up, she still saw Trent as a good friend. The thought of getting back together even crossed her mind a couple of times, but she dismissed those ideas.

_There's no way he'd take me back_, Gwen decided. _I'm lucky that we're still even friends. After I betrayed him like that on national TV, you'd think he-_

"I see something up ahead," Ezekiel said, cutting off Gwen's train of thought. Ezekiel ran ahead of Chef and pushed his way past some tall bushes. The eight teens and burly cook were quick to follow.

The motley crew found themselves staring at a small, brick cabin with a wooden roof. They could see light pouring out of the open window, and smoke rose up from the thin chimney.

"Looks like someone's home," DJ said. "Maybe they can help us?"

"There's only one way to find out," Chef remarked, stepping forward. He light knocked on the wooden door. "Hello? Is anyone home?"

There was no answer. Chef knocked again, this time a little harder. The door swung open, creaking loudly. Chef paused for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Finally, he stepped inside the house. The nine teenagers followed.

The house was small, with only a single room. In front of Chef and the teenagers was a small table, with a single clay bowl in the center, surrounded by dirty utensils. Next to the table was a filthy bed. In front of table, directly across from the group, was a fireplace, an iron pot hanging over it. In front of said fireplace was a bald man, wearing a plain gray work shirt, brown trousers, and brown boots. The teens watched as he fed a log to the fire – no doubt he was in the middle of fixing his dinner.

"Um, excuse me," Chef called out. "Sir?"

The bald man turned around in shock, giving the teens a full view of his face. He had a thin, black beard, his skin was abnormally pale, and his eyes... his irises were fire-engine red. When he saw the group of strange people in his doorway, those red eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in anger.

"_Kto yebat' ty? Chto vy delaete v moem dome?!_" the man demanded in Russian. "_Poluchit' yebut iz!_" (Translation: Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in my house?! Get the fuck out!)

Chef was confused; he didn't understand Russian at all. Nevertheless, he had to try and communicate with this man; lives were on the line.

"I'm sorry to bust in on you like this," Chef began. "But we need help. Our RV crashed, and-"

"_Ya ne ponimayu vas, vy glupye chertov amerikanets! Ty ne mozhesh' skazat', chto ya tol'ko govorit' na russkom?_" (I can't understand you, you stupid fucking American! Can't you tell that I only speak Russian?)

"Don't yell at me! Look, if you'll just-"

"_Slezaĭ s moego imushchestva!_" (Get off of my property!)

It was then that Zeke stepped forward, preventing what could have been a nasty fight.

"_Pozhaluĭsta, prostite moĭ drug,_" Zeke said calmly. "_On ne znakom s russkim yazykom._" (Please forgive my friend, he does not know Russian.)

The look of anger on the Russian man's face was replaced by a look of surprise. Clearly, he didn't expect this young intruder to speak Russian. And neither did Zeke's friends.

"You speak Russian?" Tyler asked, as shocked as the Russian was.

"Fluently," Zeke said to Tyler with a proud smile, before turning back to the bald Russian. "_My ochen' zhal' vas pobespokoili, no nam nuzhna pomoshch'. Nash avtobus razbilsya v lesu nepodaleku ot·syuda. Nashi druz'ya poluchili raneniya. Vy dolzhny nam pomoch'!_" (We are terribly sorry to disturb you, but we need help. Our bus crashed in the woods not far from here. Our friends are injured. You must help us!)

The Russian's look of anger returned. "_Razve ya pohozh ya dayu der'mo?_" He spat. "_Eto vashe poslednyee preduprezhdenie, vyĭti iz moego doma!_" (Do I look like I give a shit? This is your last warning; get out of my house!)

"_Pozhaluĭsta! Nashi druz'ya bol'no, vozmozhno, umiraet! Yesli vy budete prosto-_" (Please! Our friends are hurt, possibly dying! If you'll just-)

"_Ya skazal, ubiraĭtes'!!_" (I said, get out!!)

No one was prepared for what happened next. The Russian man picked up a large carving knife from the table, shoved the table aside, and lunged for Zeke.

The girls screamed. The guys cried out. The man screamed in fury, the knife raised above his head, murder in his eyes. The only silent one was Zeke; he was paralyzed with fear, frozen to the spot.

"_ZEKE!!_"

Had it not been for Izzy's intervention, Zeke probably would have been killed on the spot. The redhead's fist came out of nowhere, slamming into the face of the Russian, sending him and the knife flying across the room. Before Zeke could react, a pair of hands spun him around, and he was face-to-face with a concerned Izzy.

"Are you alright?" she asked with worry in her eyes.

Before Zeke could utter a word of thanks, Chef shoved both he and Izzy against the wall.

"He's recovering!" Ezekiel heard Chef shout. "Get behind me!"

Startled, Zeke turned and saw that the Russian man had indeed recovered, and was coming towards them again, the knife in hand. Blood sprayed out of his broken nose, but the man didn't seem to notice.

Speaking of noticing, Zeke also saw that Chef had positioned himself between the man and the kids. He had also drawn his gun, and was pointing it at the enraged Russian.

"_Freeze!_" Chef shouted, glaring at the bald man.

He continued to walk towards them, the knife raised. Chef cocked his gun and shouted a warning again. "_I said freeze!_"

Still the man's step didn't falter. He seemed completely unfazed by the fact that there was a gun pointed at him. Chef growled...

"Alright, you asked for it!"

...and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot sounded like a dozen firecrackers, all going off at once. The gun jumped in Chef's hand. Behind him, Sierra, Bridgette, and DJ all cried out, and everyone else gasped. A bullet hole appeared in the Russian attacker's chest, right above his heart. The man stumbled stopped and stumbled, but amazingly, didn't fall. He looked down at the now bleeding bullet wound, back up at Chef... and kept walking.

"What the hell?" Chef asked aloud, his eyes widening in shock and fear. Chef fired two more rounds, each one hitting the man in the chest. Again he stumbled, but did not fall. He just kept coming.

Finally, Chef had had enough. He aimed the gun slightly higher, and squeezed off one more round. This bullet went right between the Russian's eyes. The man stopped, and didn't start walking again. The knife clattered to the floor. The man dropped to his knees, let out a final, weak groan, and collapsed on the floor in front of Chef.

For a few minutes, no one did anything. Everyone just stared at the body in shock, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

It was DJ who finally broke the silence.

"Is-is he d-dead?" The brick house whimpered.

Chef lowered his gun and gave the man a kick in the side. When he didn't stir, Chef put his gun away. "Yeah, he's dead."

All nine teens let out a collective sigh of relief. But their minds were still troubled by what happened. It was Harold who finally said what everyone was thinking.

"How did this guy take a sucker-punch to the face and three shots to the chest and not die?"

Before anyone could even begin to answer that, an explosion rocked the cabin. It was like several barrels of TNT, all going off at the same time. The teens screamed. Chef screamed. The earth beneath their feet seemed to vibrate.

Then, almost as quickly as it began, it was over. Everything was calm again, save for the frantic breathing of ten freaked-out Canadians.

"What the hell was _that?!_" Tyler gasped, his hand over his rapidly-beating heart.

Ezekiel looked out the house's window, and gasped.

"Look!" he said, pointing out the window. Everyone turned to look, and they too gasped.

Smoke was rising up out of the forest in the distance. Near where the smoke was rising, the trees had a faint orange glow about them.

Ten sets of eyes went wide with fear, and ten hearts skipped a couple of beats. Without a word between them, the group flew out of the house and started running through the forest. Towards the sound of the explosion. Towards the fire and the smoke.

Towards the spot where the Total Drama World Tour RV had crashed.

**End of Chapter One...**

In case you haven't figured it out yet, the enemies in this story will be similar to the Majini and Los Ganados of Resident Evils 5 and 4 (respectively), rather than the zombies of Resident Evils 1 through 3. Anyways, please review! Oh, and just a little warning; next chapter, someone will die... Mwahahaha!


	3. From Bad to Worse

**Total Resident Evil**

**by KeyBladeWarrior56**

**Summary**: During Total Drama World Tour, an accident strands the 17 teenagers, host, and chef in the middle of rural Russia. What starts off as a search for help quickly becomes a nightmarish fight for survival...

**Warning**: Still not time to change the rating. Almost, but not quite yet...

**Disclaimer**: Still don't own Total Drama.

I give you... Chapter Two! Be prepared for death, sadness, and anger. _Lots_ of anger.

**Total Resident Evil**

**Part One: The Village**

**Chapter Two: From Bad to Worse**

Of the ten Canadians, Izzy, Tyler, and Harold were running the fastest through the dense Russian forest. This was understandable, considering that all three of them had loved ones on the RV that may or may not have just been blown to kingdom come.

Roughly 10 feet behind them ran Chef Hatchet, Bridgette, Gwen, Ezekiel, DJ, Cody, and Sierra, just as worried as Tyler, Izzy, and Harold were.

"You think they guys on the bus are all right?" DJ asked.

"God, I hope so," Chef replied, looking down at his feet as he ran. He couldn't let the others see, but his face was the perfect picture of shame.

_It's my fault, it's my fault!_ Chef thought. _This whole thing is my fault! I should have just hit that fucking moose! I should have checked the RV before we left, I should have made sure that there was nothing burning, or that the gas tank wasn't leaking! If those kids are dead-_

"I see something up ahead!" Tyler shouted. Peering through the trees, the teenagers could see the orange glow of open flames. With a final burst of speed, they pushed through the trees and shrubs that separated them from the wreck.

They were greeted by the burning metal corpse of what used to be the Chrismobile. Surrounding the wreckage were about a number of bodies, sprawled out in the dirt.

But they _weren't _the bodies of those on the bus, as had been expected. This people were much older; in their forties or fifties, at least. They all worse plain brown and gray clothes (like the crazy Russian they had encountered earlier), they all had incredibly pale skin (again, just like the Crazy Russian), and in the light of the fire, the group could see that each corpse had piercing red eyes (do I even need to say it?). Surrounding these bodies was plethora of rusty, bloodstained weapons; knives, hatchets, pitchforks, and even scythes.

Only one body was different from the rest, and one teenager took notice immediately.

"_Owen!_" Izzy gasped in horror, racing over to her downed boyfriend. The other teenagers and Chef were quick to follow.

To say that Owen was in bad shape would be the understatement of the year. The large teen was covered in nasty wounds, no doubt inflicted by the various weapons lying around. One his eyes was swollen shut, and blood leaked out of the corner of his mouth. But the worst wound had to be the long, deep gash running across his massive gut; so deep it was, you could almost see his organs through the blood.

"Owen, are you okay?" Izzy asked, dropping to her knees next to him and gently lifting his head. "Speak to me!"

Slowly but surely, Owen's good eye opened, and he looked up at his girlfriend.

"Iz... Izzy?" Owen asked weakly, not believing what he was seeing. "Is... is it really you?"

Izzy smiled, despite the tears welling up in her eyes. "Yes Owen. It's really me," she said, gently stroking his cheek.

"Owen..." Chef Hatchet asked slowly, looking around at all the bodies, then to the burning bus. "What happened here?"

Very slightly, Owen turned his head to look at one of the bodies that surrounded them. "We... were ambushed," he said. "They came out of the trees... Dozens of them. LeShawna and I... we tried to hold them off... but there were just too many of them..."

Izzy couldn't hold it back anymore; tears were now flowing down her cheeks, like twin waterfalls. Behind her, the others were close to tears as well.

"Owen," Harold said, looking up at the ball of fire that had once been the Chrismobile. "Are the others...?"

Owen shook his head. "No... No, they weren't on the bus... Those psychos... carried everone off, right before they set the bus on fire..."

_That explains the explosion, _Chef thought. _The fire must've reached the fuel tank. _"Owen, what direction did those psychos carry the others off?"

This time, Owen didn't say anything. Instead, he weakly lifted his arm to point towards the forest. The others looked to where Owen was pointing, and their hearts sank.

Owen was pointing towards the village.

"Guys..." Owen said, making everyone turn back to him. Tears of shame leaked out of the corners of his eyes, into the dirt. "I'm... I'm sorry. I promised that I would keep the others safe... And I failed..."

"Don't blame yourself, Owen," Izzy said through her tears, squeezing his hand. "You did your best."

"Just-" Owen paused to cough, hacking up a bit of blood. "Just promise me that... that you'll rescue the others... That you'll save them..."

Izzy squeezed Owen's hand harder. "I promise, Owen. I promise."

"Thank you... ... ...Izzy?"

"Yes?"

"Before I die... can I have one last kiss... from the woman I love?"

Izzy smiled through her tears. "Of course you can."

She leaned down and gentley pressed her lips against his; a kiss so tender and loving, it made all those present - even the war-hardened, stone-faced Chef Hatchet - break down crying. When the kiss was finished, Izzy and Owen smiled at one another, despite the intense pain the latter was in.

"I love you, Owen," Izzy whispered.

"I... love you too... Iz...zy..." Owen managed to whisper with his last breath.

And just like that, the jolly giant who got along with anyone and everyone, was gone from this world forever. Izzy broke down sobbing over her boyfriend's corpse. Chef Hatchet, Ezekiel, and Tyler removed their headgear and bowed their heads in respect, as did the others. Tears flowed down each of their faces, staining the ground beneath their feet.

* * *

Working together, the ten Canadians dug a quick grave for Owen. The fire burned itself out as they worked, and the few flames that were left were smothered with dirt. Ezekiel said a prayer as they lowered Owen into the makeshift grave, and two pieces of metal from the wreck were tied together into a cross-shaped headstone. It was far from ideal, but it was better than leaving poor Owen to rot in the dirt.

Now, the group stood in the clearing, staring down at the village, which now had a large bonfire burning in the center of it. The village that was full of maniacs that had attacked their friends. The village in which their friends were no doubt being held hostage. Chef turned to face the teenagers he was in charge of.

"Alright, listen up," Chef said firmly. "We all heard Owen; our friends are being held down in that village, and it's up to us to save them. As of now, this is no longer a quest for help; it's a rescue operation."

The teenagers nodded, gripping the weapons they had picked up from the wreck; Gwen, Harold, and Tyler held knives, DJ and Sierra were equipped with pitchforks, Bridgette, Cody and Ezekiel had picked up hatchets, and Izzy held up a wicked, rusty scythe.

"Nothing fancy; we go in, find our friends, and get out. I don't know _what_ is wrong with the people here, but all that matters is that they're our enemies. I have no doubt that we'll have to kill some of them during this mission. If anyone has a problem with that, speak up now."

No one said anything. Even the normally gentle DJ and Bridgette were silent; the memory of Owen's death, and the thought of their friends captured in the village, was more than enough to make them forget about their pacifism.

Chef nodded, and turned back towards the village, drawing his gun and glaring down at the small community. "Let's move out."

**End of Chapter Two...**

And, I'm finally done! This chapter was a little short, but I hope the drama and emotion made up for it! Chapter Three will be out in a few days! Oh, and be prepared for a rating change from T to M to accompany Chapter Three, because things will get_ very_violent. Laterz!


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